


Envoy

by Refleckshun



Category: Redwall Series - Brian Jacques
Genre: Action/Adventure, Comedy, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 06:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12382959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Refleckshun/pseuds/Refleckshun
Summary: Matthias, Cornflower and Basil Stag Hare are strangers in a foreign land, as Redwall Abbey's warrior and first lady – and bodyguard – are brought to a neutral vermin nation across the seas in a first, faltering attempt at diplomacy. Far from home and among creatures they are usually wary of, misadventures inevitably ensue.





	1. Introduction

“ _Do you want to go on a boat?”_

“ _...What?”_

So flashed the moment through Cornflower Fieldmouse’s mind, as she felt her innards tighten and spasm once again. She was sitting in a cabin below deck on a large ship, back against the inside of the hull, a bucket on her lap. Lamps and candles flickered as the ship lurched to and fro. Next to her on the bench, there sat Matthias, his arm around her tightly. He stared straight ahead while Cornflower alternated between leaning back on the wall to gasp for air, and leaning forward over the bucket to dry-retch. Some inclement weather had hit the vessel they were passengers on, and naturally, landbeasts such as them were not well-suited to traversing large waves on the high seas. It was all Matthias could really do to occasionally squeeze Cornflower’s shoulder, in some ultimately pointless attempt at comfort. That, and maybe lift the free-hanging parts of her increasingly unkempt headscarf out of the way of… an impending torrent, so to speak.

“ _'Do I want to go on a boat,'_  you said,” Cornflower forced herself to say, “And - and I said,  _'what'_.”

“That’s correct, my love,” Matthias replied, having to raise his voice over the roar of a wave outside. Objects were sliding and rolling around the cabin haphazardly, adding to the din. “But remember, of course,” he continued, turning his head to look at his wife with a weak smile, “You then said ‘yes’.”

Cornflower met his gaze bitterly. “I hope this trip is worth it, Matthias. If it turns out we have to -  _urp_  - have to turn around and go straight back to Mossflower because they’re just like the  _rrrrrrrr_ -  _ugh_  - rest of them… I will not be happy.”

“I won’t be either, Cornflower,” replied the warrior of Redwall, himself having to breathe deeply to quell building nausea. “But that Salamandastron hare seemed adamant of it.”  


 

* * *

**TEN DAYS EARLIER**

* * *

 

In Cavern Hole at Redwall Abbey, many a beast were seated. It was getting late in the evening, and most abbey dwellers were relaxing after dinner, but the brothers and sisters - along with Matthias, Constance, Abbot Mordalfus, Basil Stag Hare, and Orlando the Axe – were all giving their full attention to the young messenger hare who had turned up at the front gate just a short time before.

The hare had said that he brought significant news of a ship that had laid anchor off Salamandastron, and a proposal that came with it. However, he had requested a private audience with all important figures of the abbey, as the information he was to divulge was rather sensitive. And so, all listened as the messenger recounted the events that had led him to Redwall.

“The ship was sighted over the north-western horizon at sunrise, three days ago. It looked like no searat or corsair vessel we had ever seen – it was larger, more grandiose. We observed it keenly as it moved down the coast towards us, and saw that it laid anchor off-shore at about noon, right next to the base of the mountain. It wasn't until the landing boats were launched from the ship that we saw who the occupants were, wot.”

“Woodlanders?” Mordalfus asked.

“No, Father Abbot,” the hare replied. “Rats, weasels, stoats, ferrets, foxes – a cat or three.”

Everybeast shifted in their seats, and a restless murmur wafted through the room.

“Now,” the hare continued, holding up a paw, “I will quell any doubts about our condition right this second, by saying that all crew of the ship are being kept at Salamandastron under heavy guard.”

Amongst the sighs of relief around him, Matthias spoke up for the first time. “Was the battle hard-fought?”

The hare blinked in response and struggled to speak at first. “I – n-no, no sir. There was no battle.”

The silence that followed, with the abbeybeasts all staring at each other in confusion, prompted the hare to explain further. “Their weapons were few and rudimentary, which meant that we made short work of taking them captive. Once we realised the visitors were not putting up a fight, that is.”

“Not putting up a fight?!” Orlando exclaimed. “Then what in the world were they playing at, shoring up right near a mountain full of hares?”

“An expedition!” responded the hare. “They were explorers – mappers, botanists, recordists, documenters, navigators, what have you. They are peaceful creatures as far as we can determine – bally rough around the edges, as expected, but not out-and-out dangerous.”

A pause. Everybeast present froze at the hare's statement.

Orlando slumped back in his large chair. “Surely not.” And the floodgates opened, with all the Redwallers asking questions or murmuring to each other at once.

“An expedition?” Matthias asked in surprise amongst the din. “An honest to Martin expedition?”

“Where are the blighters even from?” Basil wondered aloud.

“Silence!” the Abbot ordered, and the noise died down. “I believe our guest has more to say.”

“Indeed I do, Father – thank you,” replied the hare, who spread his arms and continued talking. “Yes, Matthias, sir. It is an honest expedition. They made no attempt to fight, they made no attempt to steal from or harm us, and we inspected their vessel to find nothing suspect – simply mapping implements and piles of parchment. As for where they are from,” he continued, turning to Basil, “They say they hail from a great land over the ocean, to our west, far beyond the furthest reaches that any of us know of. A large nation they call Hesperfell. They spoke of towns, cities, huge ports, tracts of farm land; creatures numbering in the millions, all ruled over by a benevolent chancellor.”

The Redwallers' mixture of fear and coy disbelief had turned into open-mouthed shock.

The hare noticed. “I know what you are all thinking, wot – I can scarcely believe it myself. But I still have yet to tell you of the proposal.”

As the Abbot blinked and adjusted his spectacles, the hare revealed the most shocking information of all: “The expedition's captain, a rat - who else - the blighter proposed a diplomatic mission, don’tcha know? We send a few of ours over the bally ocean to parlay with their leaders and make the world a little smaller, they said. We learn about them, they learn about us, trade lines established, relations begun and improved! That was the proposal submitted thus, eh wot?”

After another pause, the abbeybeasts gradually comprehending the situation, Constance was the first to speak. “What exactly are you suggesting?” she asked, her eyes narrowing.

The hare grew nervous and flustered at the badger's sharp gaze. “I - w-well,” he stammered, “ _We_ at Salamandastron, after much internal debate among us, decided that the appropriate course of action would be to take the vermin up on their offer-”

All who were seated stood up abruptly, fire in their eyes. Orlando growled.

“- _Cautiously_ , I emphasise,” the hare insisted, a finger raised. “We can send their ship back escorted by a few of ours, capable warriors and soldiers aplenty in tow, wot wot? And, of course, a delegation to discuss matters of diplomacy and all that.”

“And what of this delegation?” asked Mordalfus as everybeast sat back down. “Who would be sent?”

“I’m glad you asked, Father Abbot,” replied the hare. “Well, as I mentioned just before, they say they have some form of centralised rule, if you will. An actual, proper, sovereign nation, don’tcha know. We in Mossflower, on the other paw, are in a somewhat disadvantageous position of - erm…”

Basil finished the statement, cocking his head to one side and flicking his ear: “...Not really having any of that sort of thing.”

“Indeed, sir,” the hare agreed, bowing to the retired officer. “So, we thought, considering that Salamandastron and Redwall are the two, erm… hubs of the region, if you will… we could send a few chaps or chapettes from here, in addition to our lot!”

The group glanced at each other as they considered the hare’s words. Brows were raised. It was a mission fraught with dangers and unknowns. As they turned thoughts over in their heads, they saw great risk with such an activity, not only to the safety of themselves and Redwall, but also to all of Mossflower.

“So,” began Matthias, “Send an envoy, you say.”

The hare, standing up straight, gave a single nod. “Precisely.”

“And what if we don't do that? What do Salamandastron or Redwall have to gain from such a thing?” Orlando asked.

“Well, to gain, I confess that none of us are really sure, wot,” the hare replied. “But they know of our existence, and they know of our location.”

Matthias stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Hmmm, yes. If we just make them leave without us, what's stopping them from coming back later with greater numbers? And if you hares kept them at Salamandastron indefinitely, their countrybeasts may send other ships after them.”

Basil added, “It's pointless either way... no matter what we do, we will have to engage with them somehow. Seems our only option is to grab the stag by the bally antlers, strike while the iron is hot.”

“But strike accurately – if we are to strike at all. This isn't a simple case of saying 'What could possibly go wrong?' and throwing caution to the wind,” Constance pointed out. “We can't be rash, but we can't be half-hearted, either.”

“Exactly!” Basil agreed. “Whether they are dangerous or not, a hypothetical visit must be calculated and assertive, wot! We would need to make a good impression – let them know that while we mean no harm, we can certainly hold our own.”

“We at Salamandastron already demonstrated to the expedition that we can hold our own, sir,” the visiting hare interjected, “But meaning no harm... I regret to posit that proving  _that_ may be more difficult. They aren't exactly happy with the way they were treated.”

“Well then, we would send our best and brightest, but also our kindest and most honourable,” Mordalfus responded. “We are not short in either type of quality here at Redwall.”

Everybeast looked at the Abbot in surprise.

“You are on board with this, Father Abbot?” Matthias asked.

“Well, yes, I suppose I am,” confirmed Mordalfus. “At any rate, good – or, at least, neutral creatures of their kinds, are a rare thing in this part of our world...” He stared into space and spoke softly. “A world that, I confess, I had not considered in such a wide scope before. The Northlands, the Eastern Scrublands, Mossflower, the deserts, and Southsward, certainly. We know of Green Isle in the south of the sea, and of Terramort in the north, from the tales of Joseph the bellmaker and his daughter Mariel. But... what lies  _over_  the ocean? What opportunities have been presented to us here?”

Mordalfus stood up. “It is as you three said,” he continued, pointing to Matthias, Basil and Constance, “The fate of Mossflower was sealed and intertwined with these creatures the moment they landed here. We can now do nothing more than work with what we have before us. I have no qualms with taking a chance on them and their nation. Erm – unless, of course, there are any objections to this plan,” he finished, clearing his throat.

All present looked around in silence, waiting for somebeast to speak up – but none did.

“I suppose the answer from all of us is right there,” said Matthias, to murmurs of agreement from the abbeybeasts. With a nod, Mordalfus sat down and brought his attention back to the hare.

“There are risks, plenty of risks, but I’m sure we can find beasts willing to take them,” the Abbot stated. “Were there any you had in mind?”

“I suppose the first and foremost in anyone's mind,” the guest replied, pointing to Matthias, “Is you, Warrior of Redwall.”

The mouse’s eyes widened at the hare’s words. “Wha- me? Why me? I have an abbey to protect.”

“Hmmm. Makes sense to send you, though, old bean,” Basil mused. “You have a position of great power, honour and respect in this neck of the woods. Your word would carry great weight in some unknown place like that.”

“To add to that,” Abbot Mordalfus interjected, “I’m sure the abbey will be able to protect itself adequately in your absence. It has happened before, Matthias, and it can happen again. This time, too, we have another warrior in training - your son, Mattimeo. There is no need for you to worry yourself.”

“I should probably stay,” said Constance. “We still need more than one here who can defend the abbey in any case.”

Orlando backed up his fellow badger. “Agreed. I will stay too.”

“Well then, in the paws of two badgers and your son, I think Redwall is perfectly fine, Matthias!” exclaimed Basil. “I suppose nobeast will miss me if I tag along with you to this foreign land?”

Matthias laughed. “I suppose you’re all right. Redwall is safe without me. Yes, then – I'll take the responsibility.” He turned to Basil with a warm smile. “It would be good to have you along, friend. You’re an old fighter, but your experience in paw-to-paw combat would make you a fine bodyguard for the representative of Redwall.”

“Ha! Steady on, m'boy!” Basil guffawed. “You’re quite capable of defending yourself. But if there’s an opening for the position of bodyguard on this mission, then I’ll bally well take it. The Western Seas await, wot!”

“So, it is settled then,” Mordalfus stated with finality. “Matthias and Basil Stag Hare will be our representatives. We will make plans in the morning, and reveal what has transpired to the rest of the abbey. Then, we will send our representatives on a journey to Salamandastron at the earliest convenience.”

Many of the abbeybeasts seated at the table broke into celebration at the arrangement of the diplomatic mission. Cheers erupted, while some clapped, and a few began talking about a farewell feast. But, like many celebrations, it was a little premature - the noises trailed off as more and more noticed the messenger hare standing expectantly, with a finger raised on one paw. When the room was quiet once again, the hare grinned sheepishly for a moment before beginning.

“It would probably be a good idea, sirs and marms - with all due respect - to, erm, have at least one more in your group. We have a charismatic warrior…” - he gestured to Matthias - “We have a personal bodyguard…” - he gestured to Basil - “We have regiments of Long Patrol footsoldiers for added security. But we need a negotiator. Someone good with words, polite, can be accommodating and understanding, but… has their own spark. Can push a hard sell when the time comes, don’tcha know.”

The brothers and sisters murmured to each other, and Constance and Orlando looked at each other and shrugged. Basil stroked his chin, and the Abbot massaged his temples.

“I know a beast who’d be perfect for that!” exclaimed Matthias, standing back up and raising a paw. The room fell silent.

Mordalfus turned to the warrior. “And who might that be?”

Matthias looked back at him with a smirk, his eyes twinkling. “I’m married to her, Father Abbot.”

-

Later, in the gatehouse, Matthias and Cornflower were retiring for the night. Mattimeo was long asleep in his room down the hallway. In the half-light of the bedchamber, they pulled the covers back and slid into their large double bed. Sharing a tender kiss, they pulled away and looked deep into each other’s eyes, watching as the flames of their candles shone and danced in the reflections of their irises.

“I'll never tire of this,” Matthias sighed.

“Me neither,” Cornflower murmured. “It's been three seasons since you returned from Malkariss with Matti and the young ones, but... I don't think I will ever get bored of living out my days in peace with you.”

Matthias chuckled in response. “And three seasons since you decided to play the most dangerous game of dress-up with a flock of ravens and magpies. For peaceful creatures, we seem to have led rather exciting lives.”

“Indeed we have,” Cornflower giggled. “We're not exactly old, but I'm thinking enough excitement and adventure has passed our way for a long time.”

“Hmmm.” Matthias broke eye contact with Cornflower, staring at the foot of the bed. “Maybe not quite yet.”

Cornflower, smile fading to a worried expression, looked at the same spot Matthias seemed to be burning a hole into with his gaze. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, she turned back to her husband and placed a paw on his shoulder. “Matthias? What's the matter?”

Matthias, meeting her eyes once again, raised a paw and stroked the side of his wife’s face. Her whiskers twitched in response.

“Cornflower?” Matthias asked quietly.

She placed her paw on Matthias’. “Yes, my warrior?”

Matthias took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Opening them again, he asked: “Do you want to go on a boat?”

Silence crept its way into the room. It was only for a few seconds, but to Matthias, it felt like minutes. Their expressions did not change. Cornflower’s arm flopped back down by her side, and she drew away from her husband slightly, tilting her head to one side.

Still looking him in the eyes, brow furrowed, she hesitantly opened her mouth to speak.

“...What?”

 

* * *

**PRESENT**

* * *

 

“Just a couple more weeks of this, and we’ll be in port, safe and sound,” Matthias reassured Cornflower as she convulsed yet again, with another rub of her shoulder. “A couple more weeks.”

“I know, love, I know,” she replied as gently as she could, looking at Matthias frantically. “But at this rate, I don’t know whether I will last another couple of minutes!” Her stare then became unfocused, her mouth hanging open, and her breathing becoming more laboured. She slowly faced forward over the bucket, blinking wearily. “Oh, Matthia- _hurk_ -”

With that, Cornflower promptly threw up. Matthias made the grave mistake of not looking away. He had seen this before when she was falling pregnant with Mattimeo, but on a rocking ship below deck with nothing to gain his bearings from, his own growing seasickness was not helped by the sight of what was in front of him.

“Oh. Oh, dear,” murmured Matthias, trying to rip his gaze away from Cornflower’s initial offering to the bucket. “Wh-what in the world did you have for lunch?”

“Ergh, oh my - wha… the same as everybeast else on this ship -  _ech_  - what does it matter?” Cornflower spat back between retches.

“I… I f-feel…” Matthias trailed off as his eyes glazed over. Feeling the ship rock sideways, he gulped. “I feel as though I may be about to lose mine. May I have the bucket, please?!” He then grabbed the rim of the container and pulled it his way.

Cornflower resisted her husband’s pull. “No! I still need it!” she moaned.

 

The two mice briefly engaged in a tug-of-war for rights over the pail, each gripping the rim with both paws and heaving while muttering such sweet nothings as “Give it,” or “Get your own.” The ship crested a wave, unbeknown to them - and as the plunge began, they felt their bodies become light. In that moment, they looked into each other’s eyes, sharing a look of impending dread, and knew what had to be done. As the ship entered a trough and they felt twice as heavy in an instant, they put their heads together and leaned over the bucket as one, sharing the unfortunate deed.

The warrior and his wife gripped each other’s shoulders as they engaged in a mutual expulsion of the contents of their stomachs, the ship continuing to sway and pitch and dive.

Matthias and Cornflower kept a list back home of things they wanted to do as a couple, but this was most assuredly not one of them.

* * * *

# ENVOY

**A Redwall FanFiction By Refleckshun**


	2. Testing the Waters

“ _Y'seem like alright beasts,” the rat explained from the end of the long stone table. “That's why I offered. The Chancellor encouraged me to do that when he sent us off. 'Where y'can, show the best of us,' he said. Be invitin'. So to answer your question, mice – yeah, I am a bit annoyed that me and my crew are still in chains.”_

_A sliver of light from the window, a rectangular slit chiseled out of the mountainside of Salamandastron, fell on the face of Matthias at the other end of the table. Cornflower sat beside him, pensively observing the exchange, as hares stood guard all about the room, down in the holding cells of the mountain fortress. Foremost of the Long Patrol hares present was Brigadier Penfold Dappler, who stood stoic and watchful behind the two Redwall mice._

“ _Who is he?” Matthias asked coolly, leaning forward onto the table. “Who is this benevolent Chancellor that we've heard about?”_

[](https://refleckshun.deviantart.com/art/ENVOY-Chapter-1-Testing-the-Waters-659191157#)“ _Scaramarr Rothlin is his name.”_

“ _Doesn't sound particularly benevolent.”_

“ _Well, from my experience, he's a stand-up stoat, he is. Don't let the scary name fool ye, he rules Hesperfell from the city of Eastreach as fairly as he can, and wants the best for all.” The rat sniffed, and gazed out of the tiny window. “What's in a name, anyways? Me first mate Drimp gets a lot of stick for havin' a weak soundin' name, but he's as strong an' dependable a ferret as you'll ever see. Greytail ain't an honourable name for anybeast either, but it's mine – an' I'm the Cap'n of the_ Rimaris _expedition, an' I've managed to get Hesperfell beasts all the way over 'ere to chart an' study the eastern edge of the great seas. Where, again, we've 'ad the pleasure of gettin' chained up an' interrogated by a bunch of paranoid hares, even after we've invited 'em along to our country.”_

_As Dappler sighed in exasperation, Cornflower placed her paws on the edge of the table and attempted to catch the rat's eye. “You've got to understand, Greytail,” she said quietly, “There is a fair bit of... existing tension between our kinds and yours in this land. We always try to be accommodating to all beasts, no matter their type, but Matthias, myself, and others at Redwall have been burnt by the flame a few times in recent seasons. And for the hares here at Salamandastron, that's their life – they have had to defend themselves and all of Mossflower from evil rats, stoats, ferrets, wildcats and foxes for generations.”_

“ _We're simply erring on the side of caution, don'tcha know,” Dappler interjected. “It's no slight against you beasts in particular. We've been through this, Captain.”_

 _Greytail attempted to fold his arms, but the short chain shackling his wrists together rendered him unable to do so. After a few tries, the chain pulling taut every time, the rat sighed in resignation and laid back in his chair. “I mean, fair enough, I guess. But... why continue it, eh?” He nodded to the hares standing around the room. “Like I said to them, we mean no harm. If'n we wanted to 'urt you lot, we'd 'ave come prepared to do that. Dappler, you saw the_ Rimaris _' hold an' cabins – not a sword or spear in sight. I said it before the mice came along: all we want to do is make the world a bit smaller.”_

_He then leaned forward, meeting Cornflower's gaze directly. “And you're 'ere now, aren't ya? You want the same, otherwise y'wouldn't 'ave made the trek out 'ere from your abbey, bags an' all.”_

“ _Well, we don't know if it's what we_ want _, so to speak,” said Matthias, clasping his paws, “But that's what we're taking this chance to find out.”_

_Greytail's brow, which up to this point had been furrowed in concern, rose on once side. “So this is goin' ahead?”_

“ _Yes.”_

“ _Well then, could somebeast please get these bloody things off me so we can get started?” Greytail pleaded, raising his arms to show his still-locked shackles._

“ _Of course,” Dappler said, satisfied with the situation. “Go on, hares, free all the vermin so that everybeast can begin preparations.”_

_Many present immediately exited the room and began making their way to other holding cells. Dappler stepped forward and produced a key, and he and one other hare that had stayed behind freed Greytail. The rat stood up and smiled as he rubbed his wrists, but then frowned._

“ _Wait, what? Repeat that, would ye? Vermin?” he asked incredulously. “What's that all about?! Isn't that what you called us when you captured us?”_

“ _Oh, I d- I – er – Mmm,” Dappler stuttered, flustered at his gaffe. “Sorry, old chap. Force of habit, wot.”_

_The rat and the two hares strode out of the room together, Greytail shaking his head in disapproval. “Bloody unbelievable,” he muttered on his way out. Dappler took a moment to glance uncomfortably at Matthias and Cornflower as he, too, disappeared through the doorway._

_Cornflower turned to Matthias and flatly stated: “I can already tell that this is going to be a fun trip.”_

 

* * *

 

“I'm having fun, of course I'm having fun!” Cornflower insisted as Matthias chuckled beside her. Both mice, flagons of water in their paws, were leaning against the prow railing of the  _Dusk Chaser –_  their ride to Hesperfell. According to the Long Patrol, the vessel was a repurposed corsair ship that had been taken and stored in one of Salamandastron's sea-level caves, after a small battle that took place near the end of Lord Urthwyte's reign over the mountain.

'I won't say which cave in front of the visitors – classified information, don'tcha know,' Dappler had said. 'Seemed a bit of a waste to scuttle the old thing, so His Lordship must have thought, why not keep it for possible later use, wot? At least, once it had been... cleaned up, of course.'

The convenience and timing of the ship's acquisition was not lost on the Mossflower contingent.

Cornflower rolled her eyes at her husband's continued chuckling. “I've never been adventuring before, Matthias. I see now why warriors do it so much. It's a clear morning, the sky and the sea are smooth and a beautiful blue, the breeze is soft, I'm standing here with the wind in my face and you beside me, and we're on our way to a land that neither of us have seen before. So, yes – I'm having fun, and we've both had plenty of fun on this whole voyage. Haven't we?”

Matthias took his turn to speak, as Cornflower drank deeply from her flagon and gazed at the nearby  _Rimaris –_  the ship of the Hesperfell expedition – travelling close off the port side. “If by 'fun' you mean the kind of fun we had when Ambrose made us try one of his headier brews, certainly. I think that's the fifth time since we left that we've had to wash and air out our hammocks. The third time your nightgown had to be put out as well.”

Cornflower almost choked on her drink as Matthias wondered out loud, “What is wrong with us? We just can't keep anything down.”

His wife gasped for air and put a paw on his shoulder. “Not so loud! We don't want any of the hares to hear us.”

“I don't think we're in any danger of that, my love,” Matthias countered, gesturing towards amidships, “Not with the way Basil and Dappler are going on.”

The mice looked over by the main mast, seeing the two hares playfully trading verbal blows as they assisted in turning the mainsail. It had come out that they had been in each other's company in the Long Patrol's ranks many seasons ago, and had much to bring up from the past.

“Now then, after you were discharged from the Border Patrol–”

“-I say, Dappler, how dare you insinuate such a thing! I retired, wot! The difference is night and day.”

“Ha! Spare me, Basil. You only retired so that General Pevensie could not officially mark you down as discharged on the records!”

“I had to spare  _some_ of my honour. I lost most of it in the kitchens.”

“Yes, indeed! The younger ones don't know what really happened, but we know, wot. They said the stew took days to clean up – in fact, one can still smell it in the walls on a warm afternoon!”

“Now then, be careful, Penfold. You may have sensational claims about me, but I give as good as I take. Recall the time I walked in on you and that haremaid in the lower dormitories–”

“I – w-wot?!”

“I say, Brigadier,” said a younger hare on the foresail, “You never told us  _this_ story before, sir!”

Dappler rounded on the young hare with panic in his eyes. “Corporal Cornelius, you heard  _nothing_!”

The two mice continued watching on, bemused, as Basil laughed at Dappler's embarrassment.

“It pains me to even think this,” Cornflower said to Matthias, in between a murmur and a whisper, “But… If it weren’t for their uniforms, I’d hardly be able to tell them apart.”

Matthias nodded in response, listening to the continued banter. “I wouldn’t be able to either. Don’t tell Basil I said that.”

Cornflower would never get a chance to, for the attention of all on board was suddenly drawn to the  _Rimaris_  by a loud cry.

“Land ho!”

The two mice turned around to look off the prow, and sure enough, a long line of black and brown could be seen creeping up over the horizon. Little could be made out from the distance they were at, but there was no mistaking it – after weeks of traversing the western seas, they were finally within throwing distance of the land of Hesperfell. Their journey, and stomach upsets, were almost at an end.

Greytail, too, heard the call from his ship’s crow’s nest, and gazed westward, seeing his home. “Furl the sails and drop anchors, crew, fore and aft!” he ordered, as the expedition crew was lost in a flurry of activity. Running to the  _Rimaris_ ’ quarterdeck, he turned to the  _Dusk Chaser_  and yelled over, “Mossflower beasts, I strongly suggest y’do the same!”

Dappler leaned on the  _Dusk Chaser_ ’s bulwark and shouted back, “Why, rat? We’re not even in port yet, wot!”

“Simple procedure, hare,” the rat responded, taking his ship's wheel. “Just get it done quick-smart. You lot’ll see soon. Try and line your vessel up with ours, it'll make it easier. Ay, Virgil! Get the mirror out an' start flashin'! Drimp, matey, 'elp 'em drop the anchor off the stern! Minimal swing, remember!”

Some time later, both ships had come to a standstill beside each other in the open water, the coastline of Hesperfell still looming in the distance. The groups gathered on the starboard side of the  _Rimaris_ , and the port side of the  _Dusk Chaser_ , about half a ship’s width of water between the two vessels - close enough that everybeast could communicate without having to raise their voices too much. Everybeast, that is, except for the lone fox in the  _Rimaris_ ' crow's nest - who held a large, concave, polished metal plate in both paws, waving it around and reflecting the sunlight in many directions.

“Spill the beans then, Greytail,” Dappler said. “Why the stoppage?”

The rat explained the situation: “Rothlin passed a set of maritime laws some seasons ago - we all gotta follow ‘em. We gotta stop ‘ere when we see the coast. It’s like a… like a boundary system, or somethin’ like that. Y'see how Virgil up there's got the big mirror he's wavin' around? Any Hesperfell ship that comes back from a voyage on the open water’s gotta signal that they’ve arrived an’ wait for clearance.”

“And you left it until now to tell us this? Why not tell us back at Salamandastron?” Dappler asked.

“Er...” Greytail froze as a look of realisation found its way onto his features. He sheepishly shrugged and shook his head. “Never crossed me mind. It's normal for us lot, so we didn't think to warn ye. Uh... sorry 'bout that, I s'pose.”

In response, Dappler simply uttered a “Hmmm” of acknowledgement. Every creature on board the  _Dusk Chaser_ furrowed their brows in slight confusion.

“Anyway, to get to the point,” Greytail continued, “If’n you’d continued on straight to Eastreach without waitin’ for approval to enter, you’d reveal yourself as foreign an' be treated as bein’ suspicious right off the bat. Ye wouldn’t have the best time of it, dependin’ on the mood the commanders were in. So what y’gotta do is stay ‘ere with us, an’ we’ll get in soon. The lookouts would’ve already seen the signal. All we gotta do now is wait.”

Cornflower noted, “Rothlin’s thought this out pretty thoroughly.”

“Yeah, he has,” Drimp agreed. “Seems to have worked out alright so far, too. Any foreign vessels that have come in not knowin’ about it have either been let go with a stern warnin’, or…” - the ferret peered over the  _Rimaris_ ’ bulwark into the water - “They’re, er… they’re down there, somewhere.”

The mice and hares leaned over their own railing and stared down into the depths as Drimp had done. They all glanced at each other worriedly before looking back up at the expedition crew, who were chuckling at their unease.

“Right then,” Matthias said. “So, you’ve signalled - what happens now? Do they signal back, and then we’re clear?”

“Not quite,” Greytail answered. “They can’t just go lettin’ in any ol’ ship that signals ‘em - could be a trick by invaders or somethin’, and y’wouldn’t know ‘till they were moored in the dock. Nah, Rothlin’s decreed that all approachin’ ships need to be inspected, too.”

“Inspected?” Dappler asked. “So we’ll be out here until sundown while they send a bally boatload of border security agents out, eh?”

It was at that moment that a series of ear-splitting screeches could be heard from afar, about four in succession. All present turned to the west - the Hesperfell beasts with decidedly less shock than the Mossflower contingent - and looked to the skies, seeing a distant dark shape grow steadily larger. Four more screeches came from the dark shape.

“Nah, we got more efficient ways than that,” Greytail said, almost too casually. “Never said there were just beasts on shore, after all.”

The shape in the sky grew more defined as it flew closer to the anchored ships, at an alarming rate of speed. As it came near, its identity became apparent: a peregrine falcon. The bird diverted its flight path to circle around the vessels, and gradually spiralled inwards, watching all the while. Eventually, the falcon – just under twice the size of the largest beast on either ship - shot for the main mast of the  _Rimaris_ , and landed gracefully on the lowermost spar, just above the crowd of the expedition out on deck.

“Kraaar! Greytail! You’s early. A season early! Why the quick return? And why the extra ship?” the falcon, a female, demanded.

“Good day t’you too, Kreyva,” Greytail replied, without missing a beat. “Yeah, we’re back a bit sooner than we thought we’d be. We brought back some company we found on our travels.”

Kreyva screeched again in response. “Prisoners?”

“Wha- no! Not bloody prisoners - diplomats,” Greytail clarified. He glanced over at the mice and hares on the deck of the  _Dusk Chaser_ , with slight trepidation. “Er - ‘least, that’s what they’re s’posed to be.”

The falcon looked over at the visiting beasts with her deep, black eyes. Tilting her head side to side, she paused for a moment and clacked her beak before leaping back into the air, flapping over to the other ship. Matthias, Cornflower and Basil all jumped back and cried out in surprise, as Kreyva landed on the bulwark with a rush of air from her enormous wings. Meanwhile, the hares of the Long Patrol stood by at the ready, paws on the hilts of their weapons.

With yet another screech, the bird formally introduced herself. “I’s Kreyva, messenger and lookout for Chancellor Scaramarr Rothlin of Hesperfell. I keeps the waters and port of Eastreach safe. You’s foreign beasts. From where’s you come, and why?”

The Mossflower envoy all looked around at each other, waiting for somebeast to speak up. Matthias and Dappler made eye contact.

“You’re the commander of this ship, Dappler,” Matthias noted.

“True, sir, but beyond that, I am merely head of the security force,” Dappler replied. “You, Mrs Cornflower, and Basil are the true representatives here. In addition, I’m sure you can word our purpose for coming here much better than Yours Truly.”

“Then words it quick now, one of you beasts,” Kreyva interjected impatiently. “Time be short!”

Matthias snapped his gaze to the falcon and took a breath before he began speaking, gesturing towards those around him as he spoke of them.

“My name is Matthias. This is Cornflower - my wife - and Basil Stag Hare. This is Colonel Dappler and the hares of the Long Patrol. We hail from Mossflower Country, over the ocean to the east. We’ve come to your land with the  _Rimaris_  expedition to meet with Chancellor Rothlin, and perhaps start a dialogue with him and the population of Hesperfell, as encouraged by Captain Greytail,” he proclaimed, motioning past Kreyva towards Greytail and his crew. “To reach this destination, we’ve braved the dangers of the high seas, and the deep-seated mistrust between creatures of our kind and creatures of their kind that exists back home.”

Cornflower leaned close to Matthias, adding: “And seasickness.”

“And seasickness,” Matthias repeated. “Will you and Chancellor Rothlin allow us passage and room to stay in Hesperfell? We’ve come a long way and mean no harm to your nation and the beasts that inhabit it.”

No reply immediately came from Kreyva. As with all birds, it was difficult to tell emotion from her face alone, but as membranes flitted across her eyes and she scanned the crowd of hares behind Matthias, it became apparent that she was looking upon them with suspicion. Dappler noticed this too, and looking around, soon saw the many reasons for the falcon’s hesitation.

“Paws off weapons, all of you!” he ordered. With a rustle, every hare on deck stood up straight with arms by their sides.

Kreyva let out a rasping grunt, locking her gaze back to Matthias and replying: “Rothlin likes getting visitors. He keepses rooms in the palace just for guests, specially beasts like you. But he is away on important business at this moment – one night until he getses back. I’s fearful of hosting foreign beasts in the palace without his approval.”

“So should we stay in dock until he returns? I know there are some of us here who'd rather not stay an extra day or so in a ship's cabin,” Matthias said, glancing sideways at Cornflower, “But I'm sure we can handle it for the sake of keeping our host happy.”

“No, mouse!” Kreyva squawked. “You's travelled a long way. There are many inns in Eastreach that will have you. Kreyva will arrange you's a place to stay the night.”

“And a debrief for us?” came the voice of Greytail.

Kreyva turned around to face the expedition crew. “Yes, captain. You's back sooner than planned, but you's brought back much of value to Chancellor Rothlin. Maps, and a potential new ally.”

“Yeah, and a hell of a story to go with it,” Greytail said, his crew members sporting knowing smiles.

“Thank you, Kreyva,” said Matthias. “Your services are appreciated.”

The falcon turned her head in Matthias' direction. “Thinkses nothing of it, mouse. I's only doing what duty to the Chancellor I must.” Spreading her wings, she announced, “You's approved for entry into the waters of Eastreach. Welcome to Hesperfell, mice and rabbits of Mossflower!”

The great bird was on the verge of taking to the air once again, when all of a sudden, Basil raised his voice in protest.

“Now just one moment! We are hares, not rabbits!” he indignantly exclaimed.

In the warmth of the midday sunshine, a cold silence came over the two ships. Kreyva froze mid-jump, her wings spread wide. The smiles on the faces of many creatures onboard vanished. After a second or two, Kreyva slowly folded her wings and turned back to the Mossflower contingent, eyes trained on Basil.

“What is the difference, rabbit?”

“You – I – wh- I – jus...” Basil blinked repeatedly and shook his head, unable to form a sentence. “Th-there are  _plenty_ of differences, wot! How dare you make such an assumption.”

“B-Basil...” Cornflower murmured, slowly holding up both paws, “Leave it be. She didn't mean anything by it.”

The hare ignored her, and pointed accusingly at Kreyva. “I take offence to your statement, bird. As, I'm sure, do all the other hares aboard this vessel.”

Under most other circumstances, Basil would have been correct. However, the other hares on deck were quick to note Kreyva's connection to the leader of the country they were attempting to enter, not to mention her large, sharp talons and steadily narrowing eyes.

“W-we... we really don't.”

“An honest mistake.”

“Water under the bridge, wot?”

Basil, once again, seemed not to listen to his fellow woodlanders. It was unclear to Matthias and Cornflower whether he was disregarding his own statements back at the abbey about making an impression and being assertive, or taking them too much to heart. He spread his arms and continued pressing the issue. “How – how would you like it if I called you a pigeon, hmmm?”

“Oh, no.” Matthias placed a paw on his forehead and winced. “Please, Basil, this is not your fight to pick. Listen to Cornflower – leave it be.”

Membranes slid across Kreyva's eyes once more. “Is rabbit calling a falcon a pigeon?”

“Well, for the purposes of the discussion, I may as well be. Yes! I am calling you a pigeon. What's the difference, eh?” Basil snarked, folding his arms in a huff.

“Pigeons do not have great big talons, rabbit!”

Before anybeast had time to react, Kreyva had leapt into the air and grabbed Basil by the shoulders. Cornflower screamed in surprise, Matthias shouted, and many Long Patrol hares drew their weapons, only to be pacified by Dappler – who correctly saw no point or possible method to trying to slay the bird. The crew of the  _Rimaris_ merely rolled their eyes and threw their paws to the sky, no strangers to Kreyva's temper, while Greytail and Drimp began discussing how they could defuse the situation.

With more effort than she had likely anticipated, Kreyva lifted Basil into the air and over the water between the ships, screeching all the while. As her wings flapped lopsidedly and she struggled to maintain altitude, the hare writhed around in the grip of her talons, none too happy with his predicament.

"I say, put me down, you bally bag of feathers!" Basil ranted at Kreyva.

"No’s, filthy rabbit! You’s apol'gise quick now!" the falcon rasped back. "Kreyva carries you’s away, otherwise!"

“I will not bend to the will of a creature who shows such disrespect to a retired offisah!” yelled Basil. He continued struggling in the grip of Kreyva’s talons. “Put me down right now! That’s an order!”

“Kreyva takeses orders from Scaramarr Rothlin, nobeast else!” the bird proclaimed, lifting Basil higher. “Apol’gise, or you's lunch!”

Basil sneered as he kicked thin air. “Pish-tush! I’m sure your Chancellor will be pleased to hear that you’ve slain the personal bodyguard of the representatives of Mossflower Country. This will create a diplomatic nightmare, don’tcha know. You  _will_  apologise for calling Basil Stag Hare and the Long Patrol blasted rabbits, and you  _will_  let me down this instant!”

“Basil, this is already a diplomatic nightmare,” Cornflower pleaded from the deck. “Just yield! This is silly!”

“Yes, and it’s only holding up our entry into Eastreach,” Matthias agreed. “Swallow your pride for now, friend. We can settle this once we’re on land.”

Basil looked down at the mice and opened his mouth to protest, but before he could say anything, other voices began calling out from another location.

"Oi, Kreyva, put the hare down, yeah?" called Drimp from the deck of the  _Rimaris_. "He's real important-like, needs to see the Chancellor with the mice!"

"Yeah, c'mon Kreyva, put 'im down, get the Mossflower beasts their rooms! Y’can deal with any ‘urt feelings later," Greytail added, as more creatures of the expedition shouted in agreement.

Kreyva, flapping in place, looked over at Drimp and Greytail, then down at Matthias, Cornflower and the Long Patrol hares. She screeched once more.

"'Kay then, Krevya putses rabbit down and bookses rooms. Safe travels!"

And with that, she unceremoniously let go of Basil right in mid-air, and flew away. The hare yelled out in shock as he splashed down into the water.

"Basil!" Matthias and Cornflower cried out in unison. Both immediately ran to the nearest gap in the bulwark to find their friend. Leaning out over the water, they spied a maelstrom of foam in which he could be seen surfacing.

The Long Patrol hares jumped into action instantly. "Cornelius! Grab that rope and jump in to get him! We'll pull you back onboard. Hares, hold the other end fast and be prepared to pull!" Dappler ordered.

As hares all about them scrambled to help, the two mice remained fixated on Basil as he spluttered and trod water below.

“Hold tight, Basil,” called Matthias, “Are you alright?”

"Blasted… Barnacle-beaked… Reprobate!" the hare shouted from the water, thrashing in anger.

“I think he’s fine,” Cornflower sighed.

"Mind out the way, sir and marm," came the voice of Cornelius bounding up behind them, rope in paw and wrapped around his waist, to jump through the opening himself. Matthias moved out of the way in time; Cornflower did not. She was knocked off-balance by Cornelius, who was deep within the tunnel vision of duty as he hurled himself overboard. Spinning in place, then wobbling just a little too much the wrong way, Cornflower squealed like a mousebabe as she toppled over the edge, arms flailing.

"Cornflower! No!" Matthias roared, promptly adding to the tally of creatures being flung off the ship by leaping after his wife. The creatures of the expedition simply watched on in disbelief as the whole sorry scene played out before them.

"Festering… Bird-brained… Fish-head!" Basil continued to shout.

Splashing down, Cornflower quickly righted herself and broke the surface, coughing. No sooner had she done so than she felt herself being grabbed and held steady.

"I've got you, Cornflower!" Matthias said, in the grip of his protective instincts. "It's alright, I've got you!"

"What are you - I can swim, Matthias!" Cornflower protested, freeing herself of Matthias’ hold. Facing him as they trod water together, she exclaimed, "I had my swimming lessons in the Abbey pond as a dibbun, same as you, silly!"

Matthias stared at her as he came back to his senses. Panting, he shook himself back to reality. "Oh. Of course. By the fur, now we're both wet."

A few yards away, Cornelius had swum out to Basil. "Here you go, sir," the corporal announced, "Take this here rope, tie it 'round your waist, and we will winch you back onboard!"

Unbeknownst to Cornelius, Basil was still hurling insults at the long-gone falcon. "Bloody… Daft… Flea-ridden… Nincompoop of a creature!" He shouted, continuing to thrash in the water.

Cornelius, holding out the rope to his fellow hare, mistakenly assumed the insults were directed at him. He stared at Basil, wide-eyed. "Wot?!"

Basil stopped thrashing, and stared back at Cornelius, only just becoming aware that he was being rescued. "Wot?!" He responded.

Cornelius blinked. "Wot?!"

Basil looked around,then back at the private. "Wot?!"

"Wot?!" Called out Dappler from the railing.

"Wot?!"

_"Wot?!"_

_"Wot?!"_

Thus, a chain reaction of  _Wot_ s was set off on the deck among the Long Patrol hares. Down in the water, Matthias and Cornflower heard the commotion, and themselves said "What?" repeatedly as they looked around and stared incredulously at each other.

Over on the  _Rimaris_ , Greytail and Drimp could only stare and shake their heads as the swarm of  _Wot_ s and  _What_ s assaulted their ears.

“The Mossflower envoy, eh?” Drimp sighed.

“Rothlin's gonna 'ave 'is claws full with ‘em," remarked Greytail wearily. “What've we done?”


	3. Checking In

If one were to climb aboard the  _Dusk Chaser_ at this point in time, they would first encounter an enormous puddle of water by the bulwark on the port side, followed by three sets of pawprints – one a hare's, the other two of mice – leading to the foot of the main mast.

Despite being given towels, with which they had wrapped themselves snugly, the three beasts sitting at the base of the mast remained far more wet than they found comfortable, and it showed from the growing miniature lake seeping out onto the deck around them. Matthias' fur spiked wildly in all different directions, roughed up by the ocean; Cornflower's headscarf dripped with sea water and stuck to her face in inconvenient places, her whiskers twitching; and Basil's ears hung limp, his nose scrunching up as he sniffed. All three looked straight ahead, glowering.

The hares of the Long Patrol practically tiptoed around them as they went about their business, saying nothing, aside from a quiet apology from Corporal Cornelius for his knocking Cornflower into the water. A quiet acknowledgement was all that was needed, and he went on his way. Severely unimpressed with recent events, the trio returned to scowling in silence at nothing in particular for quite some time.

Eventually – and almost simultaneously – Matthias and Cornflower slowly looked up at the hare sitting between them, their faces glum and tired, and simply stared. Basil looked back at them, and huffed, folding his arms.

"Is a hare's pride really that unimportant to you two?"

"Is our entering this country on good terms so unimportant to  _you_ , Basil?" Matthias asked icily.

"I simply wanted correct referral from the outset," Basil asserted. "We want Rothlin to know that we mean business, and why not make that clear by showing that we won't back down and allow mistakes?"

Cornflower rolled her eyes. "It was not your place to do or say anything.  _I'm_  meant to be the negotiator, remember?"

" _Meant_ to be. You couldn't negotiate that blasted bird into calling me what I am," Basil muttered, staring straight ahead with eyes narrowed. "I wonder if your famed kindness is a liability here."

"What?!"

"Cornflower was doing the right thing, Basil!" Matthias exclaimed. "For something as small as that, it wasn't worth having us take an impromptu dip in the ocean. What was the worst that could have happened? Kreyva gets it wrong, flies off and arranges us our accommodation, and it gets corrected when we actually meet Rothlin. Instead,  _this_  happened. And if we ever begin talking about more... important things... what precedent is this going to set?"

Basil did not answer.

"I don't much appreciate you suggesting that my idea of negotiation is weak," Cornflower said, her own arms folded in indignation. "I'm well aware that not everything is candied chestnuts and October ale, but like Matthias said – taking such a hard stance needs to be worth it. Sometimes compromising is the best option, Basil. This was one of those times. We can only hope that relations aren't soured with Rothlin already. All you've ended up doing is make mine and Matthias' jobs more difficult, you silly hare."

A few long minutes passed, with only the sounds of the sea and the footsteps of the Long Patrol to break the silence of the Redwallers. Matthias stared down at the deck, Basil continued gazing into the distance straight ahead, and Cornflower looked off to the side. Finally, the hare slumped and sighed wearily.

"I'm sorry, Cornflower," Basil said. "I know better than to say such things to you. And I'm sorry for my big mouth. Whatever consequences we may face, I will take full responsibility, wot."

Cornflower turned to him, her expression softening. Eventually, she sighed herself and weakly smiled.

"It's fine," she replied. "I'm sorry for calling you silly."

"I think we all need to get off this ship," Matthias said. "Hopefully we'll be able to do that soon without getting wet in the process."

The trio chuckled with wry smiles as they shifted in place. They gazed to the front of the ship, seeing Hesperfell growing ever closer.

"You understand my position though, yes?" Basil asked.

Matthias and Cornflower replied hesitantly.

"Maybe."

"A little."

 

* * *

 

Thankfully dry, the mice stood at the prow of the  _Dusk Chaser_ as they had earlier that day, arms around each other as they took in the city that lay before them. As they drew ever closer, a slight chill in the wind, they picked out details of Hesperfell's capital that were not seen as well from afar.

Eastreach was beyond anything they had ever seen in terms of size. Large wooden docks lined a portion of the coastline, where sailing ships of all shapes and sizes were stationed. Behind the bustling port, there sat numerous buildings of stone and wood, some with smoke wafting thinly from their chimneys amongst the heat haze of barely-visible glowing furnaces. Further back, more huge buildings, approaching and exceeding the height of Redwall Abbey's bell tower, separated from each other by narrow cobblestone streets. There were scores of them, all clustered together in a jagged skyline of squares and rectangles. The stone, wood and clay mortar binding all the walls together gave off shades of muted and muddy brown and grey.

To the sides of the central cluster of large buildings lay swathes of shantytown dwellings, built from wooden planks – cobbled-together walls looking as though they would soon snap and collapse, even under something as light as the flat plank roofs that sheltered the beasts inside. These, too, had chimneys, but they were thinner, and the smoke that came out of them was decidedly less clean than that coming out of the dock furnaces.

And close behind everything, slightly off to the right and on top of a hill, there lay a gigantic, imposing structure that was somewhere between a castle and a mansion. What could only be assumed to be Rothlin's Palace was built out of enormous grey stone slabs, chipped from ages of wear. Even from the harbour, Matthias and Cornflower could see that there were copious amounts of dirt and grime in between the stones, the stains of weather past casting a green-brown tint over the whole palace.

"It's funny," Cornflower remarked, "I feel as though I should be saying something like 'It's beautiful.' But it really isn't."

Frowning, Matthias added, "It's a striking place, if not particularly colourful."

"Ugly as a toad in a swamp," Basil clunkily interjected as he stepped up behind the mouse couple. "But a damn sight colder. Hopefully that is no reflection on the citizens, whoever they may be."

"You're right, it is getting rather cold," Matthias said, letting go of Cornflower and turning around to face Basil. "I wonder how far north we are?"

Basil looked to the skies. "Far enough north that the sun is quite low in the sky for it to be just past midday."

"Midday? Is that all?" Cornflower sighed. "My word, I'm tired. It'll be nice to get back on dry land again."

Matthias took her paw and began leading her amidships as Basil followed – both the  _Dusk Chaser_ and the  _Rimaris_ drawing ever closer to the docks. "Well, we'll be able to check in to an inn shortly. Then, we can take a break from the world for a while," he reassured his wife. "Today has been eventful enough... nothing worse could possibly happen."

Cornflower glanced at him with a wry smile. "I fear, now that you've said such a thing, something worse is exactly what will happen."

 

* * *

 

A short time later, both ships had manoeuvred their way into free berths at the docks. It took longer for the  _Dusk Chaser_ to get itself moored than the  _Rimaris_ , on account of the beasts at the mooring points being preoccupied with staring at its occupants. A shout from Greytail managed to rouse the dock hands from their stupor, and shortly the Mossflower ship was moored. The  _Dusk Chaser_ 's side hatch opened, the wooden door falling to the dock with a loud  _thunk_.

Straps criss-crossed the bodies of Matthias, Cornflower and Basil – their travelling bags and satchels containing various supplies and belongings hanging from them rather cumbersomely. Stepping out from the bowels of the ship, the fact that they were setting foot on a new land for the first time was not quite at the forefront of their minds. Instead, they silently pondered whether they should have packed lighter.

Greytail met them outside, as the Long Patrol hares went about the business of packing their own bags. "Welcome to Hesperfell, Mossflower beasts," he said, gesturing with both arms toward the immense city.

Matthias hobbled to a halt, shrugging off the straps of his largest bags. "The pleasure is all ours. Goodness me, I've never seen so many ver- ... _beasts_ in one place before. We're from a place that's rather more spread out than this. I... I can actually hear the buzz of all their voices, like it's dinner time in the great hall! Is it like this all the time?"

"Indeed it is, mouse warrior," Greytail replied. "I became a seafarin' beast largely to get away from all that. Eastreach can get pretty noisy."

"Everything's so... big," Cornflower remarked, placing her own large bags on the ground. "We've been thrown right into the thick of it, haven't we? There's so much to take in. I had no idea it was even possible to build something that huge from the ground up," she murmured in awe, pointing toward the tall buildings in the city centre.

Basil followed the lead of the mice, releasing his bags from his grasp. "Quite. Those dockside furnaces are bally curious, wot? Redwall Abbey's ovens have nothing on those leviathans – even the forge at Salamandastron isn't quite as large. What could one possibly need a fire that immense for, I wonder... let alone that many?"

"Mmm, interestin' you mention that, actually," Greytail replied. Apparently they're meant to-"

"Oy!" a voice came from afar.

All turned to the nearby cobblestone street running along the docks, to see a muscular weasel heading their way, pulling an open-top two-wheeled cart behind him.

As he drew near, the weasel shot a pointed glance at the  _Dusk Chaser_ , before gruffly asking, "Cap'n Greytail of the  _Rimaris_? Foreign envoy in tow?"

"Who's askin'?" Greytail asked back, narrowing one eye in suspicion.

Having reached them, the weasel stopped and let go of the handles he was pulling the cart by, the front of the wheeled contraption clunking to the ground. Paws on hips, he replied, "The same featherbag what done let you in, matey. I'm here to pick 'em up and take 'em where she said to. Of all the cart-pullers on the job today, it had to be me, didn't it, Greytail?"

Greytail folded his arms and regarded the weasel with familiarity, but ever-so-faint contempt. "Don't let me stop ye from jumpin' for joy. Where would you be takin' 'em, exactly?"

"Miro's, back home in the Cauldron Quarter."

Greytail gawked at the weasel's answer and threw his arms wide. "What?! You can't be serious! These beasts are the ambassadors of a foreign nation!"

"Uh – erm," Cornflower interrupted quietly, "We're not... really a... a nation..."

She trailed off as both Greytail and the weasel turned their heads and stared at her. The mousewife glanced between them and eventually held her paws up in deference. "But... carry on."

"Why are you takin' 'em there, to that part o'town?" Greytail asked, looking back at the weasel. "There's plenty better places for them, even as a stop gap until Chancellor Rothlin returns."

The weasel folded his own arms in response. "Them's the orders I've been given, straight from that messenger bird's beak. An' she speaks for the Chancellor without question, which you'd know better'n any of us landcrawlers... Mister  _Special Explorer_ ," he said, ending his statement with a subtle sneer. He leaned forward with a piercing gaze. "An' don't think your shame at bein' from old Cauldron slipped by me. Gotta say, I had my doubts – well, actually, we all did, all those you left behind when you decided to go clean Rothlin's rear for a livin' – but hey! It looks like you went and done somethin' real important now. Sailed halfway to Hellgates an' brought back some more bloody-"

"You shut your damned mouth, Marv. Do  _not_ speak like that 'round these beasts," Greytail hissed, as he narrowed his beady eyes and frowned at the weasel. The mice could tell that a nerve had been hit, somewhere – and they had an inkling of an idea what it was. The rat shook his head and turned to them once again, shrugging in resignation.

"All I can say is, I'm sorry," he said. "It's set in stone. You'll be right, you will. It's not  _that_ bad. 'Least, that's how I remember it, an' I've been away from here for a while..."

It was Greytail's turn to trail off, as the Redwallers stared blankly at him. He glanced at the weasel, Marv, once more – with eyes that could set kindling alight – before saying his goodbyes.

"Myself and me crew will meet you again at the palace when the time comes. Stay safe. I feel bad havin' to tell ye that, but... stay safe." And with that, he turned around and strode away, returning to his ship to assist with unloading.

"Goodbye, Greytail," Matthias called, his voice faltering. "See you... soon..."

After a moment watching the rat's departure, the mice and the hare turned to Marv, and he to them. The weasel only made brief eye contact before moving to pick up the largest bags.

"Well, let's get going, then," he sighed, beginning to load the front of the cart. Basil, who had watched the entire exchange with intrigue, lifted Matthias and Cornflower into the rear, where a bench seat was located. Seeing to it that his mouse friends were secure, the hare suddenly realised that the cart was a little too small to fit all three of them – and as Marv hefted the last of the mice's bags into the cart, it occurred to Basil that his own bags had been left on the ground.

"Erm, I say, chap," Basil started, "What about this old officer and his luggage, wot?"

Marv paused, looking from the cart, to Basil, and to the hare's luggage. "Eh, sorry big-ears. The bird only told me to pick up two mice. There ain't no space for you."

"What?" Matthias exclaimed from the bench seat. "How can that be? Basil is meant to be with us at all times! He's our bodyguard – th-there must have been a mistake-"

"Nah, no mistake here, mouse," Marv interrupted. "Two mice, no mention of a hare. That was the order."

As Basil's jaw dropped in shock, Cornflower spoke up, gesturing towards the  _Dusk Chaser_. "Not just one hare – we've got an entire boatload of them in the dock behind you! Surely they have transport and accommodation too?"

Marv glanced over at the ship, then turned back to Cornflower, shrugging. "I dunno, they might have. But I heard none of it. Ain't my problem, I'm just doin' the job asked of me, which again, is gettin' two mice to Miro's Inn. And we're runnin' out of time to do that before my lunch break, so we'd better get movin' now."

"No, wait!" Cornflower pleaded, clambering over the pile of luggage and leaning over the front of the cart. "Please – Marv, was it? – Marv... Is there no way Basil can come with us? He's extremely important."

She put on a hopeful expression in the hopes of swaying the weasel, but was instead met with an unflinching stare. "Are you paying me?" he asked.

Cornflower blinked. "No..."

" _Can_  you pay me?"

The mousewife craned her neck to look back at Matthias. No answer came from him, other than spreading his paws in frustration. Cornflower, her face falling, looked back at the weasel. "N-no..."

Marv looked to the skies, then turned around, gripping the cart's handles and lifting its front off the ground. "Then there's nothin' I can do but get you to your destination. Sun's startin' to drop and I'm hungry. Away we go!"

Not wasting another moment, he powered forward, quickly pulling the laden cart along at the pace of a brisk stroll, and gaining speed still. Cornflower, who was still perched atop the baggage, was thrown back and became sprawled over her husband with the cart's forward lurching. Amongst the protesting of the mice, Basil began jogging after the cart, dodging beasts walking in the street and making his displeasure known:

"You blighter, get back here! I demand that you let Basil Stag Hare onto your cart. I am the protector of those bally mice!" Marv ignored him, the cart starting to gain even more speed, but Basil continued his ranting. "You are causing diplomatic difficulties, I hope you are aware. Stop! Stop at once... st... stop..." The aging officer coasted to a stop and nearly doubled over, panting, as he ran out of breath. There was a period not long ago when he could still have given chase easily – but unfortunately, time waits for no hare.

A winded Matthias, with some effort, untangled himself from the heap that was his wife, and leaned out the back of the cart to call to Basil, gasping for air. "We'll resolve this, my friend! Get back to the ship and your bags. Greytail knows where we're going. He'll sort it out!"

Basil let out one last breathless cry of "Codswallop!" as the cart drew further away, and was swallowed up by the throngs of the citizens of Eastreach.

 

* * *

 

With a  _whump_ , the final bag landed on the cobblestone. Marv gave a single, curt nod to Matthias and Cornflower, who stood on the side of the busy street before him.

"Pleasure doin' business," he said, before strolling in the direction of a nearby food stall, leaving his cart for the time being. In amongst the many tens of beasts walking up and down the street, the mice watched him amble up to the smoking and steaming stall, where he produced a few coins from a pouch and motioned toward two skewered fish cooking over a fire. The cat behind the stall obliged the weasel's request, taking the coins and handing him the fish.

As Marv leaned against the nearest wall and dug in to his meal, the Redwall couple left any thought of him behind to take in their location. This was a far cry from the quiet and vibrant woodlands and open meadows of Mossflower Country – here, what little space that existed was dominated by imposing vertical walls, on which doors and windows competed for territory. And the buzz of insects and chirping of distant birds was replaced by the drone of a thousand collective voices talking at the same time, and the constant tap-tap-pitter-patter of twice as many footpaws; what all amounted to a distant roar that seemed, at the same time, close and blanketing. Matthias and Cornflower gazed further and further upwards, noticing the very tops of the three- or four-floor buildings finally giving way to the light blue sky, but allowing it only a small reach; just enough to let some light on to the ground at their footpaws. The street stretched in opposing directions, every shop face and stall different as far as they could see. Creatures moved in rivers, stopping only to see the wares of shop owners or to peruse displayed food. Some carried sacks and bags, either slung low from their paws or hoisted over their shoulders; some pushed and pulled carts and wheelbarrows; others walked along while chatting to a beast beside them; but all looked like they had somewhere to be – somebeast to see.

And just above head height of the tallest of them, signs hung denoting the purpose of every establishment. Interestingly, in addition to crude carved images depicting what each business offered, the accompanying words were written in a script Matthias and Cornflower could recognise. One read  _Vera's Jewellery_ , another read  _Dagger and Sword Restorations_ , yet another read  _Bayleth's Grub and Grog_. It was apparent that the vermin – for lack of a better definite term – that inhabited Eastreach were not of the same ilk as the often illiterate barbarians that occasionally roamed the mice's homeland. It was, in a strange way, even more unsettling to the couple than if it was not so.

The sign most relevant to them, however, was the one they turned around to see. Above a large set of windowed double doors, a sign sat that read:

#  _MIRO'S INN_

_FOOD, DRINK, BEDS – ANY DAY OR NIGHT – CHEAPEST RATES IN EASTREACH_

_BOOKINGS AVAILABLE_

They turned to each other and shared an uneasy, but reassuring smile.

"I suppose this is the place," Matthias said. They set about picking up their luggage, and with a deep breath, stepped through the doors.

Matthias and Cornflower entered the inn, bags in paws, the lobby buzzing with activity. The idle chatter, spirited conversation and rough shouts of scores of beasts melted together in a wall of sound.

But the moment the two mice stepped through the door, the entire room – packed full of vermin from wall to wall – went dead silent. Every head turned to face them. Every eye, save for those with patches over them, leered in their direction.

The couple stood stock still, eyes shifting around to take in their surroundings. They attempted avoiding eye contact; for the most part, failing. Many of the vermin were sat at tables, nursing tankards of heady beverages; some held tatters of half-eaten meat in their claws; and others were leaning, arms folded, against the dirtied wooden walls and pillars that held up an even dirtier ceiling. A bar could be seen on the opposite side of the room, tended by a stocky rat.

As the eyes of a few occupants narrowed, Cornflower noticed Matthias' free paw straying towards the handle of his sword instinctively. She swallowed, and opened her mouth to reassure her husband, when they both jumped at a voice coming from the desk in the far corner. A deep, rough murmur with no inflection.

"You, mice. What's your business?"

Their eyes snapped to the desk to see a fat ferret sitting behind it. Without a word, Matthias and Cornflower took another deep breath and strode over to the desk, taking care to avoid any of their bags bumping into the vermin seated at the tables. Cornflower kept her head down, but took aside glances at the seated creatures. All manner of them were there – stoats, rats, foxes, ferrets, weasels, cats. All the ones the mousewife could see were looking at she and Matthias intently.

They reached the desk, and Matthias spoke for them. Albeit, with a wheeze at first, on account of a dry throat.

"We're, uh – ahem," He began falteringly, clearing his throat to regain his full voice. "We're here for a room for the night? Booked in advance."

The ferret behind the desk stared at them, emotionless. His eyes were glazed over and distant, his jaw a little slack. It took him a few seconds to respond to Matthias' query.

"Names," he stated bluntly. Matthias and Cornflower blinked, before realising that he was phrasing the statement as a request.

"Erm," Matthias started, "I – I am Matthias, warrior of Redwall in Mossflower Country." He managed to put on an air of confidence that he hoped was convincing, but inside, he felt less than sure of himself in this new and strange environment. He was still mistrustful of the creatures around he and Cornflower - creatures who, back home, would have wasted no time attempting to steal from, capture, maim, or kill them. Even after spending a long trans-oceanic voyage with some of them, he was still having trouble adjusting to the fact that he was not having to immediately defend himself from any of the vermin here. "This is my wife, Cornflower," he continued after a pause, nodding towards her.

"Hello," Cornflower said quietly, with a small smile, using her free paw to perform a one-sided curtsy. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a female fox recoiling in mild disgust at her action. The mousewife's smile quickly vanished.

Another pause, as the ferret blinked slowly, and turned to what appeared to be a booking ledger. As the awkward silence - occasionally permeated by mutterings of "Mossflower?" and "Foreign mice?" in the background - threatened to suffocate Matthias and Cornflower, the ferret leafed through the pages, eventually stopping at one and examining it. His eyes shifted from the page, to them, and back to the page, about three times. Matthias' face hardened as the ferret sized them up.

Eventually, the ferret stood up, the same aloof expression on his flabby face. He was looking at them, but Cornflower felt as if he was almost staring right through them.

"Guests of Chancellor Rothlin," the ferret drawled in his deep voice, loud enough to be heard by all in the room - a small gasp coming from the other guests. "Holed up here 'till he gets back from his business, ay? Room's upstairs," he continued. "Follow me."

Matthias and Cornflower silently did so, the ferret leading them through another doorway and up a flight of rickety stairs. As they exited the bar space, they heard the chatter gradually return.

Down the upstairs halls they crept, looking around nervously as the large ferret seemed to lumber along in slow motion ahead. Both mice had stable and mature heads on their shoulders, but as they briefly met each other's gaze, they wordlessly shared the mutual feeling of disorientation with their new, strange surroundings. A flash of a smile between them did little to settle their unease.

They got a small shock as they both bumped into the ferret, who had come to a stop during their brief disconnection from reality. He looked down at them, as stone-faced as ever, before opening the door he had stood in front of.

Matthias and Cornflower stepped through, and looked over what would be their home for the next day or so. It was bare and austere, but functioned well enough as a place to sleep. A hay-lined double bed, laying on a wooden frame with spindly legs, took up much of the right wall. A small table either side, with a lone candle each for bedside light. On the left wall, there hung a reflective plate of metal - a mirror. It hung above a larger, rectangular table with no adornments. Directly opposite to the entry to the room, there were windows, and a simple door leading out onto a balcony.

"Room," the ferret grunted. "Double bed, with a view. Of the buildin' across from the inn, that is. Pull the string for room service. Make yourself comfortable - or don't. Your choice." Then, he left the warrior and the fieldmouse alone.

The two mice ignored his final statements as the door shut behind them. They stood beside each other for a few moments, gazing at the bed. It was the first time in days that they had seen a place to sleep that wasn't a hammock in a cramped cabin, and it was also the first time in days that they had really stood still. They both felt their eyelids blissfully drooping at the thought of resting on dry land again.

They unceremoniously let go of their bags, the sacks and pouches thumping on the floor. Unpacking could wait.

They looked at each other again. Cornflower remarked, "You look so tired all of a sudden, my love."

"So do you," Matthias replied, unhitching the sword of Martin from around his waist. "I suppose a voyage's worth of travelling with disturbed sleep will do that to a couple of mice."

Cornflower exhaled, releasing tension in her muscles that she hadn't realised was there until that moment. "We've got the remainder of today free. Basil will catch up soon, I'm sure. Let's rest, Matthias," she said, wearily rubbing the back of her head.

Matthias yawned in response. "That sounds like a good plan."

They stumbled towards the bed, kicking off their sandals and shrugging off the smaller bags and pouches that had been hanging around their shoulders - but Matthias kept the sheathed sword in his paw. The ingrained habits of a warrior were ones that died hard, even in the face of fatigue.

Placing the sword on the floor, on his side of the mattress, he clambered onto the raggedy bedsheet and met his wife in the middle. As they smoothly assumed their usual position - Matthias on his back, and Cornflower snuggled up to him with her head on his chest and her arm hooked around his shoulder - the couple began drifting off almost instantly, giving little thought to the comparative roughness of the hay stuffing their mattress. They hadn't even bothered changing out of their regular clothes.

They had only just settled into a peaceful sleep when the bed frame's legs splintered and the entire bed collapsed onto the floor.

They both woke with a start, yelping in surprise. They blearily looked around, and noticed they were much closer to the floorboards than they were before. As the dust kicked up by the collapse settled, they stared at each other yet again, eyelids already sinking back down. They both sighed, shook their heads at each other and flopped back down onto the mattress, falling back asleep instantly.


End file.
